


La Lune, la Terre, et un peu du Soleil

by KomaruNaegi



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair, Alternate Universe - Normal High School, An Ending That Doesn’t Suck, Coming Out, Coming of Age, High School, M/M, One (1) DR3 Dub Reference, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 09:18:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14615100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KomaruNaegi/pseuds/KomaruNaegi
Summary: By chance, Saihara Shuuichi meets Momota Kaito, a fellow classmate of his.Through the rest of the year, things gradually fall into place.





	La Lune, la Terre, et un peu du Soleil

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for clicking! Ya local bitch is back with another long-ass Saimota fic.
> 
> Thanks to [cheinsaw](/users/cheinsaw) for betaing! I’m arigatouful as always.
> 
> ANOTHER BIG THANKS TO [ranichi17](/users/ranichi17) for noting a fuckton of typos after this was published! To those of you that already read this before that, you may take my entire left arm in apology.

* * *

He heaves once, then twice, and soon thrice. The air comes out of him in puffs, cold enough that he can see it, gray-white and hazy. The hair on his arms makes goosebumps in a futile attempt of warming him up.

Another one from his class lags behind, bent over and breathing even harder than he is. Whilst he isn’t energized in the slightest, a natural sense of empathy causes him to pick up his place slightly to make it to his classmate.

Shit. He’s forgotten this guy’s name.

“E-Excuse me, are you alright?” he asks between labored breaths, giving him a look of concern. The other boy, hands on his knees, turns his head up to make eye contact. His eyes are purple, and so is his hair - likely gelled, but falling from the exertion. He shivers in his place.

“‘Course I am!” he shouts back, but his statement is followed by a cough. He sputters to his feet, almost losing his balance as he shifts his weight from his left foot to his right, and then to both of them. He moves his hands to his hips.

“What about you? How many more laps you got?”

“Two,” Saihara replies, breaking the eye contact to look at the track in front of him. Some students have given up on running entirely, opting to walk in groups or even talk. Saihara is bad enough at socializing as is, and he survived his first year well enough with Akamatsu as his only friend. He hadn’t gotten lucky enough to have her in his class this year, though.

“Two? Man, I’ve only got one. Hmmph...”

Taking the silence as a chance, the purple haired boy slides in front of him, giving him a staredown. He starts at the top of his head, the point of his hat, all the way down to his muddied, white sneakers.

“I-Is something wrong?”

“You’re weak.”

“Huh?”

Shifting his position, the other boy goes to scratch at the back of his neck. Saihara looks at his chin, and the goatee he’s started growing on it. It makes him look manly, but Saihara doesn’t think something of that effect would work on himself.

“Look, man, you look underweight. And you’re way behind. I dunno if you don’t exercise or whatever, but it’s kinda pissing me off. I don’t like just ignoring weak people.”

Saihara feels a noise rise from him. Something of confusion.

The other boy extends his hand.

“The name’s Kaito Momota! You’re not gonna stop seein’ my face anytime soon, ‘cause I’ve decided that I’m gonna make you stronger!”

Saihara looks to the ground. This guy cannot be serious, can he...? Even if he is, enough avoidance should be able to get him out of it.

Impatiently, the other boy takes his hand in his own. The sudden contact makes Saihara blush, and a wide smile takes over Momota’s face.

The smile looks nice on him.

“I-I’m Shuuichi Saihara. It’s nice to meet you...”

“That’s a nice name you got there, Shuuichi.”

His heart pumps a bit faster at that. The fact he’s being so intimate from the get-go catches him off balance.

“Now get running! Nothing’s impossible! I wanna see you do four laps before this class ends, and you better not lag behind!”

And before he can yell so much as “wait,” Momota’s taken off. And, just like he was told, he runs after him.

* * *

“Shuuichi!”

The second lunch break starts, Momota strolls over to him with a grin on his face, hand extended in a wide wave.

“Oh, good morning, Momota-kun.”

“So, you got any plans after school?” he asks with a pat to the other’s back, the sudden contact making Saihara jump for a moment.

“Ah, no, did you need something?”

“Well then, today’s gonna be our first training session!” Momota announces proudly, and Saihara’s sure practically everyone heard.

“T-Today? We only met yesterday...”

“No use slacking off!” Momota all but announces, a cheeky smile gracing his features. “Or, wait... we could train right now!”

“Right now?!” Saihara squeaks, swallowing hard on a handful of rice, forcing himself not to choke.

“Yeah, yeah! They let us go outside during lunch, don’t they? So it’s perfect training time! It’s a bit cold, but it’s nothing Momota Kaito can’t handle!”

 _It’s something Saihara Shuuichi might not be able to handle..._ Saihara is tempted to say, but he keeps his mouth shut.

Rubbing his one arm, clutching his lunch box in the other, Saihara follows Momota out into the grassy field behind the school. The two park themselves near a tree, Saihara hastily finishing his onigiri from before.

“Alllllriiight!” Momota cheers, punching one fist in his other open hand. “Let’s get to stretching, okay?”

“O-Okay...” Saihara stammers, but it’s due to the cold rather than his anxiety. Momota reaches his arms above his head, and then ungracefully bends over, attempting to touch his toes, his feet shoulder width apart. He reaches his ankles.

Saihara is notably stiffer in posture, his feet right next to each other. He bends down more slowly, almost shaking as he does, and manages to touch the tips of his shoes, curling them with his fingers.

“Oh, wow! I haven’t been able to do that since I was a kid!” Momota marvels, bending his head to take a look at his partner. “Hold that pose for ten breaths.”

Each breath is agonizing, and Saihara huffs, still staring at the ground. He catches himself staring at it often, as a means to avoid looking at people.

Momota jumps out of his pose, landing with his feet together. “Jumping jacks!”

“How is this stretching?!” Saihara asks, giving Momota an inquisitive glance as he reaches his tenth rep.

“It’s to get the blood pumpin’!” Momota answers, not breaking a sweat as he makes it to 25. Saihara follows moments after.

The two sit down afterwards, bending over to stretch their legs, rolling their arms, and bobbing their knees in butterflies. Saihara soon gets the rhythm, doing his actions in time with Momota.

Momota then stands and wipes his brow, letting out a sigh. “Yeesh, that took more outta me than I thought it would...” Saihara gets on one knee and then stands, relatively not-out-of-breath.

“Are we done?” he then asks, scratching at his neck.

“Now comes the push-ups! We’re doing thirty, and you better not quit!”

“Thirty?!” Saihara says in disbelief, paling.

“Yep!”

“Why am I doing this...” Saihara complains, going back down to get in push-up position. Momota lets put a hearty laugh, and all Saihara can do is let out a sigh, forcing himself through thirty poorly-done pushups.

* * *

Lunch the next day begins as it had the previous one, only this time Momota notes Saihara eating, and gives him an extra minute to swallow. Saihara follows behind Momota, looking up to a blue, cloud-speckled sky. It’s a bit warmer, but Saihara shivers anyway. He’s always been cold.

“Say, Shuuichi,” Momota starts, bending over to touch his ankles, “we gotta do something about that anxiety of yours.”

“Ah, sorry-“

“No,” Momota orders, bending back up and placing his hands on his hips.

“Huh?” Saihara asks, going down into a lunge.

“No more apologizin’!” Momota blares, switching the leg in front of him. “At least, not when you haven’t done anything wrong. If ya start takin’ the blame for everything, you’re only gonna drag yourself down.”

“Ah, it’s just kind of in my nature to do so...” Saihara replies, sitting down on the grass and stretching his arms to the sky. It’s harder to hold a conversation while exercising than he thought.

“Well, you should change it!” Momota suggests, turning his torso left and right.

“That might be easier said than done...”

“Look at me, Shuuichi,” Momota says, crossing his legs to sit. Saihara freezes, but looks at the dirt on the ground.

“Come on, Shuuichi,” Momota groans, only staring him down harder. Saihara looks at him for a second before retreating, only for Momota to sound in dissatisfaction. Saihara nervously does as told.

“Training helps your body and your mind grow stronger, but some of those personal problems you’re gonna have to tackle yourself. If you don’t try, nothing’s gonna change. You’ll just stay the same forever. You don’t want that, do ya?”

“No...”

“That’s the spirit! You don’t have to do everything at once though, okay? Start small. Like, uh, start conversations yourself. Tell yourself you can do things instead of sayin’ ya can’t. Instead of sayin’ ‘What if I fail?’ try saying ‘What if I succeed?’ I know that sounds like horse shit, but it’s really the basis of gettin’ better, you know?”

“I guess you’re right...” Saihara says, looking to the side. He then looks back with a small, unconfident smile. “It just feels like I’m lying to myself.”

“Well, you aren’t,” the other says, giving him a hand to help him up. Saihara takes it.

“If you tell yourself something enough, it’ll start sounding truer. Tell yourself you’re gonna do your best in the mirror every morning.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“There ya go, now come on!” Momota cheers, jumping into a jumping jack. Saihara copies.

“Sor-“

“Huh? You say somethin’, Shuuichi?”

Saihara pauses.

“No. I didn’t.”

* * *

“Hey, Shuuichi, you free after school today?”

As per usual, Momota approaches him during lunch, using both hands to lean over his desk.

“I shouldn’t have anything to do today... Why do you ask?”

“Well, uh... It’s my grammy’s birthday this Sunday and I wanna get her a present, but I got a bit of a habit of gettin’ sidetracked and spending more than I should. I also gotta pick up a few things for myself, but those can wait.”

“...Are you asking me to babysit you?” Saihara questions, giving a shy look.

“N-No!” Momota stammers, looking away and pouting. Saihara can’t help but laugh at how stupidly cute he looks like that.

“I’m just askin’ you to keep an eye on me! That’s cool, right?”

Saihara smiles. “Sure. I’ll go to your house.”

“Nah, don’t bother, I’ll come pick you up. Car’s a bit messy, but don’t mind that. Does 3:00 in the afternoon sound good?”

“Yeah, that should be fine. My mom’ll be happy that I’m getting out.”

“Cool! Now, let’s get to training!”

Saihara chases him outside, deciding not to care about how stupid he looks.

* * *

It’s 2:57 when Saihara eyes himself in the mirror.

He’s decided to go casual - jeans and a hooded sweater, along with the typical hat. He then goes back to the closet, taking some gloves out from a shelf at the top, slipping them on. The fit isn’t too great, but it’s the best he’s got, and so he deals with it.

“I’m going to do my best today,” he says to himself, having forgotten to do so earlier that morning. “Yeah. I’ll do my best.”

He then goes to his bed, unmade with tangled sheets, and lays back against it, adjusting his hat after bouncing against the bed’s surface. At 3:08 P.M. he gets a text from the other, rolling off the side of the bed to his feet, stretching out his arms.

“Yo, Shuuichi! How are ya?” Momota greets him as he opens the door with his typical cheeky smile.

“Fine,” Saihara replies, shrugging on a coat. Momota puts his hands on his hips as he waits, observing Saihara with a smirk.

“You okay with taking the train? Gramps took my car to go do errands.”

“Yeah, that's fine. I take the train to school every morning.”

“Oh, really? I just walk there.”

“Guess I’m not that lucky,” Saihara laments, finally stepping out into the cold. He yells back inside that he’ll be back in a few hours before following Momota to the train station.

The two just barely make the train, Momota having turned it into a race, with Saihara losing. The shorter holds onto the ceiling rail and pants, and Momota lets out one of his loud laughs, even though he’s heaving too.

“The plan was to go to that old antique place. Y’know, the one by the ramen shop on the corner?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve actually wanted to go there for a little while, but I’ve never had a reason to.”

“You don’t need one!” Momota says, almost loud enough so that the entire bus can hear. “If you wanna do something, ya gotta do it! Even if it’s scary!”

“O-Okay...” Saihara responds, finally evening out his breath.

The rest of the ride passes in relative silence, save for the other passengers and stop announcements, up until Momota grabs Saihara by the arm when it’s their stop. The two get off without any hassle and start their walk to the store, meaningless small talk exchanged with each step.

“We’ve made it!” Momota announces at the storefront, posing like a superhero in front of it. Saihara merely sighs, deciding to ignore the extravagancies of his friend as he walks inside, a chime ringing as he does.

“Welcome!” a cashier says from afar. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”

Momota makes his way into the shop, the chime again ringing. “Nah, we’re good!”

“Okay! Feel free to ask if you need any help!”

With that, Momota begins to peruse the store, no particular aim in mind, Saihara in tow. Saihara looks from shelf to shelf, seeing if he can find anything of value.

“Does your grandma like candles?” Saihara suggests in an attempt to be helpful.

“Ehhhhhh,” Momota groans, “I feel like I should get her somethin’ more useful. Like uh... a waffle iron, or something.”

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” Saihara comments, turning the corner, pushing a stray hair behind his ear.

The two find themselves at a small table stacked with books, some used, and some new. Momota takes one and flips through it, Saihara doing the same.

“This one’s a love story about a fisherman. Apparently the author’s famous,” Saihara says.

“Ah, really? Who is it?”

“Fukawa Touko. I’ve heard she’s famous for writing romance novels at a young age.”

“Eh, I think she’d like something a little less serious.”

“Alright,” Saihara replies, putting it down. Momota flips through a third book before putting it back, dissatisfied with the selection.

“Let’s look somewhere else. I’m sure there’s somethin’.”

Again the two scour the isles, looking for something satisfactory. Momota then stops in the middle of one, bending to the ground to pick something up. He then ushers Saihara over.

“Hey, dude, take a look at this,” Momota whispers, holding up a night light.

“Ah, that’s nice.”

It’s a curved plate in front of a light with star shaped holes for the light to seep through. Momota works it gently, switching it on so that the light reflects on his face. Golden stars dot his complexion like freckles, and his eyes nearly sparkle as he lets out a genuine smile, taking in the golden dots in amazement, turning it back and forth. Saihara can’t help but stare.

And it’s in that moment, with the light shining on him, that Saihara realizes that he might be falling for Momota.

The moment ends as soon as it began, Momota switching off the light with less finesse than he had turning it on. He looks at the price on the underside.

“Okay, I can afford 800 yen. That ain’t too bad. Say, Shuuichi, you think a snow globe would make a good gift?”

“I mean, I don’t know your grandma... But if I’d have to guess, I’d say so,” Saihara answers.

“Cool! I’ll get her a snow globe, a card, and maybe some cookies from the bakery a block from here. Hey, does strawberry cheesecake sound like a good snack to you?”

“It might be best if we don’t spend too much money...”

“Aw, come on! We’ll get a small one. My treat!”

“S-Sure,” Saihara replies, not entirely convinced.

“I know you can say something with more excitement than that!”

“L-Let’s have cheesecake...?”

“Almost.”

“I’m down for cheesecake?!”

“There ya go!” Momota cheers, clapping him on the back so hard he nearly loses his balance.

The next few minutes pass by in a blur, Saihara’s mind pulsing with the fact that he’s getting a crush on his newest friend. He shouldn’t, and he knows that, but when he smiles and ruffles his hair and encourages him...

He’ll get over this. Or at least, he hopes he will.

One snow globe, a cheesy card, a dozen cookies, and a cheesecake later, Momota and Saihara are sitting outside at a table together. Saihara now looks at him more intently, perhaps for the first time since they’ve met. He’s got a broad chin and an Adam’s apple, stubble dotting his face down to the goatee on his chin. His hair is currently messy, spiked with only what he can assume is a gratuitous amount of gel. His teeth are ever-so-slightly yellow, and his eyes are purple, almost like they’re smiling.

“Yo, you gonna eat your cheesecake?”

“A-Ah, um, sorry-“

“Hey, what’d I say about that?”

“R-Right. S-Sorry.”

“Shuuichi.”

He avoids further conversation by stuffing a bite into the cheesecake. He looks like a gopher as he swallows it down, Momota laughing as he does.

“Don’t choke on me, alright? I ain’t ready for CPR!”

The rest of the cake goes down easier, and tastes better when he isn’t forcing it into his system. He finds himself satisfied, balling up his napkins before disposing of them. Momota stands after him, rolling his arms a few times.

“Well, that wasn’t too bad! I had a good time if I do say so myself,” the taller of the two says.

“Yeah. Me too. Thank you for hanging out with me, Momota-kun.”

“Not a problem! And thanks to you too! Here, let’s get you to your house, alright?”

“Okay,” Saihara replies, smiling gently back at him.

* * *

Slouching, Momota throws the school-mandated blazer over his shoulder. He stumbles into the room, not bothering to look at the number as he gives it a quick glance, looking at the empty desks with a huff. He sits in the back, far from the window, kicking his feet up against the desk in front.

Two minutes pass in silence as he scrolls through his phone, not saying a word. He only perks his head up when he hears the door being opened further.

“Hey,” a female voice greets him, stepping in the room. Momota doesn’t bother giving her a response, opting to simply watch as she takes her hair out of its pigtails. She then flips it over her shoulder and turns to the desks, eyeing one near the middle, but closer to the window.

“What’re you here for?” Momota asks, breaking the silence and switching his legs. He puts his head on his hand.

“Threatening to hurt someone,” she responds simply, her heavy messenger tote falling to the floor. She takes a seat, crossing her left leg over her right.

“Who?”

“Ouma Kokichi.”

“Ah, he ain’t in my class.”

“He’s in mine,” the brunette responds, turning her head to look out the window at the gray sky. “I hate him.”

“Huh? What he’d do to you?”

“Well, he lies constantly,” she starts, letting out a sigh, “and he treats life like it’s one big joke. He’s constantly pulling pranks on everyone, even people who aren’t in our class.”

“Ohhh.”

“And I hate him with the entirety of my being.”

Momota only blinks at that, with no vocal response. He gives the room a once over, not noting anything strange.

“So, then, what’d you get in here for?”

“The hair,” Momota says, giving it a point, “and for wearin’ my own coat.”

“What’s wrong with your blazer?”

“Nothin’. But doesn’t this thing look cool as fuck?”

Unzipping his backpack, he pulls out the long, purple coat, galaxy pattern present within. He giggles, smiling wide as he stretches it out.

“I don’t find it particularly interesting,” Maki replies coolly.

“Whaddya mean it ain’t interestin’? All these constellations are accurate, yanno?! I had to get this custom made!”

“That’s great,” Maki says, sarcasm evident in her voice. She smirks herself, taking a paper out of her bag.

“Yeesh, don’t you ever have anything interesting to say?” Momota groans, giving her another look.

“Only if I need to. We’re both here to serve detention, aren’t we? I’m not here to entertain you.”

“Yeah, but talkin’ to each other is more fun than sitting in silence.”

“Silence is fine by me,” the girl replies, taking out a pencil. She puts her name on her work, and leans over the desk as she examines it.

A few more minutes pass, Momota mulling over work he can’t force himself to do.

“Ya never told me your name.”

“Harukawa. Harukawa Maki.”

“Momota Kaito.”

“Are you the one who runs around with that sad kid every lunch break?”

“Shuuichi ain’t sad!” Momota retorts, now angered. He stomps a foot on the ground.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah! Shuuichi is happy! He’s been happier since he’s met me, anyway!”

“Do you enjoy making him happy?”

“What kinda question is that? Of course I do! I’m his friend!”

“Well, it’s good that you’re looking out for him,” Harukawa murmurs, scribbling on her paper. “He looks like he needs someone to take care of him.”

“And I’m gonna do just that! Just you watch, he’s gonna go far! He’ll make it to the stars, even!”

“Oh? I thought you were going to go to the stars,” she says, giving the coat a point.

“That’s not the fuckin’ point! God, you irk me!”

“Maybe that’s for the better,” she says under her breath, returning to her paper.

Momota snorts.

* * *

“Hey, Shuuichi! We’re adding a member to the team!”

Saihara looks up from his seat on the bench, looking at an excited Momota. Behind him, trodding along rather unamused is the brown-haired girl, twintails following her steps.

“A-Ah, you’re Harukawa-san, right?”

“Yep,” she mutters, stopping in her tracks. She begins to stretch her arms.

“Met her in detention yesterday. I suggested she train with us!”

“You begged me in the hallway for a whole five minutes,” she grunts, shooting him a glare. “I thought doing this might get you to shut up.”

“Aw, c’mon, don’t gimme a cold shoulder, Harumaki!”

“Harumaki?” she responds, stopping her stretches. “When did I give you permission to call me that?”

“Aw, c’mon, it’s cute, isn’t it?”

Sighing, she turns to the shorter of the boys. “Does he give everyone stupid nicknames?”

“Mmm, he hasn’t given me one.”

“Okay, hold on, gimme a minute,” Momota interjects, stroking his goatee as he thinks.

“Oh, I know! How about Saishuu?”

“S-Saishuu?”

“Yeah! It’s got that, uh,” Momota starts, rapidly snapping his fingers, “the, the, the...”

Harukawa blinks.

“The sound! The same letter near each other sound!”

“...Alliteration?” Saihara suggests, tilting his head.

“Yeah, that! Alliduration!”

“How did you even get accepted into this school?” Maki asks, sitting on the ground and grabbing her toes, legs straight.

“I got accepted just like everybody else!”

“Hmph. You seem like the kind of guy who would fake credentials to take an exam.”

“H-“ Momota gawks, so appalled that he can’t say a word. “For that, you get 20 extra push ups!”

“Fine by me,” she replies, turning on her stomach and starting her set.

Saihara can only nervously giggle as he does the same.

* * *

“Well,” Akamatsu starts, folding her hands behind her and placing them flat on the bed, “what does Momota-kun make you think of? Like, what does he remind you of?”

From the other side of the room, Saihara pauses, putting a hand to his chin. He looks to the ground, staring at it intently, as if it’ll answer his question. Akamatsu blinks and tilts her head.

“I’d say the moon,” Saihara replies, breaking the silence between them.

“The moon?” Akamatsu asks uncertainly, her eyes widening. “Why the moon?”

Saihara breaks eye contact again, looking to the ground. Though this time his gaze seems sheepish, as if he’s embarrassed in some way.

“Well... If I think of myself as the Earth, then he’d definitely be the moon. Because, ah... You know how the moon pulls the tides? He just kind of pulls me along with him, wherever he goes, and I just follow...” he says.

“So you’re saying he revolves around you?”

“N-No!” Saihara stammers, his face turning red in an instant, waving his hands in front of his face. Akamatsu kicks her legs against the foot of the bed.

“Kidding, kidding,” she teases, getting the last of her giggles out. “You’re such a hopeless romantic, Shuuichi.”

“Y-You really think so?” the boy replies, an anxious tone to his words.

“Mhhm. But that’s the exact kind of stuff Momota-kun preaches all the time. So I’m sure things’ll work out.”

“Thank you...” Saihara says, giving the other a warm smile. A light blush compliments his features.

“Say, if Momota-kun’s the moon, what am I?” Akamatsu asks, suddenly piping up. She raises a finger along with the interjection.

“Mmm...” the boy mutters, releasing a sound as he thinks. “The sun?”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, um... You’re really bright, and I definitely can’t live without you, but... I think we’re best off as friends.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Akamatsu retorts, laying her back against the bed. It’s Saihara’s turn to giggle.

“I said shut up!” the blonde yells, but it hardly sounds like a threat when she’s laughing too.

* * *

Light flurries fall to Saihara’s nose. He looks up, view partially blocked by the specks, and sees a few clouds overhead, lacking in color. He blinks, and then resumes his walk towards the school.

Some seven minutes later, the sidewalk diverges, a girl in a ponytail coming from the opposite direction. He gives her a familiar wave, to which she simply nods in response.

The sky is again gray, which does little to lighten Saihara’s mood, so he chooses to ignore it to the best of his ability. The girl, who walks faster than him, lessens the distance between them, soon only a few paces behind.

It’s then that Saihara remembers Momota’s advice to start conversations himself.

“Are you ready for the test tomorrow?”

“Sort of,” she replies. “I looked over the material before I fell asleep last night, but math’s never really been my forte.”

“Yeah. I’m not quite sure I get it myself.”

As Saihara finishes his sentence, he hears a thud against the ground. Harukawa lowly winces in pain, rubbing her leg. Despite the slippery ground, Saihara runs after her.

“Harukawa-san! Are you okay?” he asks frantically, hovering over her.

“Yeah... I’m fine,” she replies, her left leg out as if she was trying to sit in a ‘W’. Her knee is purple and bruised, her gloves and hands dirtied by the surrounding dirt. Her right palm scrapes on the sidewalk but doesn’t bleed.

“Yo!” another familiar voice calls from far away. “What’s happenin’?”

Saihara doesn’t reply verbally, only looking back between the voice and Harukawa. The voice, identifiable as Momota, approaches, holding his messenger bag over his shoulder.

“Harukawa-san slipped and fell on the ice...” Saihara explains. Harukawa stars to stand up, brushing her legs off.

“Don’t worry, I got this,” Momota declares, springing, or, well, bending down into action. He grabs Harukawa’s knee, causing her face to flush as she stiffens. He brushes away the dirt with his thumb, pulls down her sock, and leaves a chaste kiss to her bruised knee.

Harukawa doesn’t hesitate as she delivers a chop to the back of his neck, knocking him out.

Saihara begins to panic, unable to form words as Harukawa simply picks Momota up, fixing his jacket so that he’s actually wearing it properly.

“C-Can you walk?” Saihara asks, his hands already preparing to catch Harukawa should she fall.

“I’m good. The bruise should go away within a few weeks,” she answers, shifting Momota in her arms.

“How are you able to pick him up?” Saihara questions as the two begin walking towards the 1st year entrance, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Furniture,” she answers simply.

“Huh?”

“Back at my orphanage, I was the oldest kid. Whenever we got new furniture, I always had to help move it. Couches, beds, tables... stuff like that.

“I didn’t know you were an orphan, Harukawa-san.”

“Yeah... it was alright, I guess,” she replies. As they reach the door, Saihara holds it open for her with his back, receiving a quiet “thanks” in reply.

“Everybody had a lot of work to do. My adopted family is much better. They cook me meals, help me clean... it’s really all I could ever ask for.”

Saihara smiles at her, and Harukawa turns away. The walk to the nurse’s office isn’t a far one, and a little bell above the door chimes as they enter.

A skittish nurse makes their way to them, her poorly-cut hair doing little to reassure the two. “Huwawa- what happened?”

“I slipped and fell on the ice,” Harukawa says, looking down towards her bruised knee.

“Ah, well, um, my friend here, Momota-kun..., He thought it might help if he kissed Harukawa-san’s wound, so I believe she panicked and accidentally knocked him out by chopping the back of his throat.”

“Oh, no, that was intentional,” Harukawa mutters. Saihara’s face falls.

“W-Well, um, p-please don’t do that again...” the nurse all but whispers, fidgeting with her hands. “B-By the way, my name is M-Mikan Tsumiki, um... M-My assistant, Kimura-san, should be here i-in a few minutes, a-and she can give you some medicine. Y-Your friend can sleep in the bed in the b-back room. I-Is that alright?”

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thank you,” Saihara says, bowing.

“O-Oh, y-you don’t need to do that! T-The back room is this way, s-so, if you’d please follow me...”

Harukawa follows behind Tsumuki, with Saihara staying at the front of the office. The bell chimes once again, a gray-haired girl wearing a face mask enters.

“U-Um, have you seen Tsumiki-san? She’s normally here...”

“Wait, are you Kimura-san?” Saihara asks, giving her a look.

“Y-Yes! That’s me... Did Tsumiki-san assist you already?”

“I’m fine, it’s just two of my friends who were hurt,” Saihara explains, as Tsumiki and Harukawa emerge from the back room. Kimura relaxes at the sight of the nurse.

“Did something happen?” Kimura asks, looking at both Harukawa and Tsumiki.

“W-Well, H-Harukawa-san here fell on the ice and bruised her knee. C-Can you give her some medicine, Kimura-san?”

“I-I’ll try,” Kimura says, reaching into her bag. She takes out a bottle and puts a singular, round pill in her hand.

“This should lessen the pain... and, um, I have an ointment that should help with the swelling, p-please give me a minute.”

Harukawa swallows the pill with a small paper cup of water as Kimura shuffles through her bag. She locates the ointment and puts on a latex gloove, putting a dab on her finger.

“P-Please sit down in the chair, so I can apply it,” Kimura asks, and Harukawa does as told.

“U-Um, can one of you two stay with Momota-kun until he wakes up? W-We can excuse you from class, so please don’t worry...” Tsumiki says, exchanging a look between the two of them.

“I have math first. You stay with him, Saihara.”

“O-Okay. That’s fine,” Saihara says, as Kimura discards her glove. She then puts the medicine back in her bag.

Saihara walks to the back room, sitting on a stool by the bed. Contrary to the normal high-energy, always moving Momota, he looks peaceful when he sleeps, mouth open and eyes closes, a thin white sheet draped over him.

Saihara thinks that his literature lesson would be about over when Momota finally stirs, groaning as he does so.

“Wh... Where am I...?” the purple-haired boy mumbles, scratching his head. He notes Shuuichi next to him, saying his name dumbly.

“Harukawa-san knocked you out after you kissed her bruise. She left to go to class, so the nurse asked me to stay with you.”

“Man, she sure is feisty, ain’t she?” Momota asks, not expecting an answer. “What time is it?”

The shorter boy looks to the wall clock. “9:04.”

“That late?!” Momota shouts, practically jumping out of the bed. From outside, the nurse shushes him.

“You didn’t take any pictures of me, didja?” Momota says, turning to his friend with a tilted head.

“W-Why would I do that?!” Saihara asks incredulously, tensing as he does.

“I’m kiddin’, I’m kiddin’,” Momota reassures him, patting him on the shoulder. “But I don’t mind if ya took a mental picture! I know I’m a pretty nice view.”

A nervous laugh escapes Saihara as the two make their way to class.

* * *

The night is soundless, save for Momota’s breathing, but Saihara’s thoughts are pounding and loud, almost trumpeting in their manner.

Momota’s grandparents are out visiting family, so the two share their king-sized bed.

Saihara shuffles again, turning to the side that’s started to cramp for whatever reason. He raises himself slightly and presses himself into the bed with a small thump.

“Shuuichi...?”

“Ah, Momota-kun...? Did I wake you?”

“Yeah, but it’s not a big deal. I’m a light sleeper.”

Saihara giggles at that. “Really? You seem like a heavy sleeper to me...”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Saihara cups a hand over his mouth and blinks once, turning over once more, so that he lies on his stomach, his head on the pillow. He crosses his arms underneath him, as if to prop his head up.

“You know, if somethin’s bothering you, you can tell me,” Momota assures him. He turns over himself, the same way Saihara had, looking over at him from his right.

“I’m just thinking about the test tomorrow... That and the oral presentation I did for English class the other day.”

“You think too much,” Momota says, going to ruffle his hair again. It’s a gesture he’s been slowly growing comfortable to. He closes his eyes and decides to appreciates the few seconds the moment lasts for.

“Hold on. I wonder if it’s still under here,” Momota mutters, suddenly rolling himself over. He fishes a hand under the bed aimlessly, moving it frantically until he says a sort of “Aha,” grasping onto something.

“Here it is,” Momota says, placing a thin book between the two of them. It’s a picture book by the looks of it - the pages are high quality and glossy. Saihara doesn’t bother looking at the title as Momota flips it open a few pages.

“Look,” Momota says with an awestruck tone, and Saihara forces himself to turn over.

It’s a book about constellations - the pages are a deep navy blue, with the occasional patch of purple. Little white stars dot themselves in seemingly random patterns, and dotted lines connect them. Underlying some of the stars are paragraphs about them.

Saihara absentmindedly traces Aries with his finger. The stars are made of some sort of foil, he thinks, but he’s too bothered to try and identify it any further.

“My dad gave me this book when I was young as a birthday present. Apparently I’d never sleep at night, so I’d tire myself out by tracin’ on these with my fingers, and lookin’ up for ‘em in the sky.”

“Mm,” Saihara mumbles, as if to acknowledge he’s being heard.

“I dunno where my dad went, and I’m kinda angry at ‘im for just straight up leaving like that,” Momota grumbles, “but this book reminds me that there’s something good about him. ‘Cause in the end, we’re looking up at the same stars.”

Saihara flips a few more pages, reading a few more paragraphs, knowing he’ll probably forget them later. He yawns.

“I’m going to sleep now,” he murmurs, turning over.

“G’night, Shuuichi,” Momota whispers back, turning so that their backs face each other.

He smiles at the darkness.

* * *

“Ahm, uh, Momota-kun?”

Nothing.

The two sit next to each other, the lights of Saihara’s kitchen turned off. The sky, blue and cloudless, shines from outside. Momota’s got his earbuds in - the standard Apple ones. They’re overused, Saihara can tell - they probably don’t even work right.

“M-Momota-kun... May I kiss you?”

“Huh?” Momota answers, taking out a singular earbud. He turns to face him, an elbow on the table as he looks him in the eyes.

This- This was a bad idea.

“You said something, didn’t you?”

“Well, that’s... It’s okay. You can forget about it.”

“Come on, Shuuichi! You can tell me anything, you know that.”

Breathe in, breath out.

“I-... I asked if I could kiss you.”

“If you could kiss me?” Momota says back to him, a genuine curiosity in his voice.

“Why... Why would you wanna do that? Do... Do you like guys or somethin’ Shuuichi?”

Now or never. He has to do this now.

“Y-Yes, actually. I’m... I’m bisexual. I like both men and women.”

At this, Momota lets out a snort. His hand reaches out to Saihara’s hair, ruffling it.

“Did I do something?” Saihara asks, a hint of panic in his words. He looks up to Momota, having now realized he hadn’t even looked at him while coming out.

“I mean... Something like that’s gotta take a lotta courage right? I’m proud of ya!”

He releases his hands from Saihara’s head, leaning back into his chair.

“That’s... not something I’m gonna have to go through, so... I can only just give you my support.”

Saihara lets out a breath of relief, and then smiles.

“Thank you.”

“No problem! Now, pucker up!” Momota all but yells, pounding his fists together and clenching his teeth.

“H-Huh?”

“You wanted a kiss, didn’t you? I’ll make it a present for ya!”

“N-No, I mean, um, yes!”

Saihara finds himself making jazz hands at this point, rapidly shaking them back and forth. It may be what he had asked, but the thought of it makes him flush.

“Then let’s go!”

“A-Are you sure about this?” Saihara asks, double checking for consent.

“O-Of course I am!” he says, turning away for the first time in the conversation.

 _He’s cute when he’s embarrassed…_ Saihara thinks to himself.

Saihara closes his eyes, and Momota soon follows. They close on into each other, feeling the heat shared between the two of them.

Their noses hit, and they both recoil.

“S-Shit, sorry...” Momota apologizes, rubbing his back nervously.

“It’s fine... We can try again...?”

“Alright.”

Eyes closed, lean forward, lips pursed, all is well-

Momota backs out.

“S-Sorry man! I just... I just got embarrassed is all. I haven’t really done this sorta thing before...”

“Me neither...”

“Really?!” Momota asks. “This is your first kiss?!”

“Y-Yeah... Is something wrong...?”

“No, it’s just... I honestly thought you’d have kissed Kaede by now.”

“W-We’re just friends!” Saihara insists, looking him in the eyes.

“Right, right... We’ll both lean to the right this time, okay?” Momota instructs, pointing to his own right. Saihara nods.

The whole process repeats itself, though this time both close their eyes at the last second - Momota taking one last second to look at Saihara’s eyelashes.

It his. Their lips make contact. Saihara wants to open his eyes, just to take in the fact that this is really happening, but he leaves them closed, focusing on his lips. They remain rather still, just sort of puckering themselves against each other, until Saihara pulls away, Momota following.

“S-So... That was my first kiss...” Momota mutters, touching his cheek.

“Mhm. Your face is a little rough...” Saihara comments.

Momota giggles for a second, but it soon turns to one of those loud, boisterous laughs Saihara knows him for. Saihara giggles too, but before long a pair of arms are embracing him. Gently, he hugs back.

“So how was training today?” Momota asks, grinning as he releases.

“T-That was training?!?”

“Well, uh... I mean, that took a lot outta me... I wasn’t really in the mood anyway, so...”

“It was great. Thank you.”

“No problem,” Momota replies. “No problem.”

* * *

Blink once, blink twice. The ceiling is dark. A turn of his head proves that the same can be said for outside.

Sweat, lots of it, and he can feel it on every inch of his body. Gross. He grumbles as he feels his way around the hall to the shower, not wanting to be blinded by the light.

The bathroom light doesn’t do much other than amplify the fact that he should be sleeping now. Whatever. He switches the water on to some setting that’s nice and warm, and stands there, soaping himself down.

Fresh boxers, and damp hair. Back to his room.

It’s two fifteen A.M. Incredible. Abso-fucking-lutely incredible.

He remembers seeing somewhere that if you get a nightmare, it’s best to flip your pillow, but this semester has been shit to him and nights of full sleep have been few and far between, the homework making his mind spin and his thoughts are blaring with answers to questions he can’t be assed to know.

He looks to his drawers - it’s a big mass of wood with lots of compartments for all his clothes. There’s a shirt on top - the one Saihara left last weekend. He takes it and shakes it open from its folds. He looks back to his pillow, and he gets an idea.

...Just for tonight. Saihara’s too nice to crucify him for something like this.

He rips the pillowcase off, tossing it to the floor. And in its place is now Saihara’s shirt, stretched and navy. He plops against the bed, bouncing a little bit, before rubbing the left side of his face into Saihara’s shirt.

...It’s strangely comforting.

He remembers back when he had a dog. Sometimes, if he’d lay a blanket on the floor, the dog would lay on it, the same with his shoes. Maybe it reminds him of being safe at home.

...Saihara makes him feel safe...?

But before he can bother to think about it, sleep takes him away from his thoughts.

* * *

The shirt doesn’t come off until three days later, which is a Sunday. He tugs it off in one pull, looking at it over his head.

It’s a plain navy blue, with white stripes on the pocket. Something simple like that reminds him of Saihara, as he’s not the type to divert attention to himself.

He then drops the shirt carelessly, letting it flutter in the air until it hits his chest, leaving him with a blank, white ceiling to look at. Only a blank, white ceiling and a head pulsing with thoughts he shouldn’t be having.

Of course he’d get attached to his sidekick, he mentally reasons with himself. He’s doing better. Hell, he might even have some muscle on him by now.

He’s got a nice smile and he likes seeing it, but anybody likes seeing their friends smile, and anyone likes ruffling their friends’ hair, or hugging them, or giving them a clap on the back.

But God, God... Who sleeps on their best friends’ t-shirt? Who gives him a kiss as a “prize” and doesn’t mind - hell, even enjoys it? He didn’t want to do that, he thinks, but he certainly wouldn’t mind doing it again.

Fuck. Maybe Harumaki can set him straight.

He takes his phone off his bedside dresser, charged at 47%, and calls her up. She’ll probably be pissed, but, whatever. He can put anybody in a good mood.

A few rings later and a disgruntled “What,” answers him on the other end.

“Hey, no need to be down! What’s up?”

“I’m working on a paper. What do you want?” Harukawa says, clearly disinterested.

“Alright, alright, no need to snap at me,” Momota starts, adjusting the now bare pillow underneath him, “you got a minute to talk to your favorite coach?”

“You’re not my coach.”

“Your favorite male friend?”

“Saihara is less annoying than you.”

“Do you have a moment to talk to me or not?!”

“I guess I have one,” Harukawa says through the phone, “but make it quick. I’m busy.”

“It’s about Shuuichi. I’ve been uh... I’ve been thinkin’ about him.”

“And you’re telling me this because?”

“I’ve been thinking of him all, uh, weird ‘n’ shit? Like ways that I don’t think guys should be thinking about their friends?”

“Are you thinking about murdering him?”

“Hell no!” Momota spits into the phone, launching himself up from the bed. He then allows himself to bounce against it, loud enough so that he can be heard from the other end of the line.

“Well, if you’re not planning on hurting him, I don’t see what the problem is.”

“But, like... I’m not... I’m not gay!”

“So that’s what this was about,” Harukawa says, letting out a sigh. “I thought this would happen at one point or another.”

“Whaddya mean you thought this would happen?!” Momota barks into the phone. “I’m not like, ogling at him or anything!”

“You are staring, though.”

“To check his form! Training’s no good if you do it wrong!”

“Well, you certainly look at him longer than you do me.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re, like, already good at exercisin’,” Momota argues, crossing his legs. “You’d probably be fine by yourself.”

“I’m really not in the mood to hear you complain, Momota,” Harukawa says sternly, and Momota’s glad he can’t see her eyes. “If you’re feeling things for Saihara, that’s your problem, not mine. The longer you try to deny it, the more grief you’re going to cause yourself, so you should just give up and worry about sorting things out with Saihara.”

“You talk like you know this stuff.”

“I might,” Harukawa muses, running her fingers through her hair, “but that’s not what this conversation is about.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure.”

“You swear you won’t tell Shuuichi?”

“I don’t think I’d have anything to gain from it.”

“I’ve been uh... Y’see...”

He draws in a breath.

“So Shuuichi left his shirt at my house when he came over the other day and I’ve been using it as a pillow case,” he says as fast as he can, without bothering to stop.

“What.”

“Shuuichi left his-“

“No, I heard you,” Harukawa affirms, “I’m just... confused.”

“Uh, I couldn’t sleep, and I thought it’d help me sleep.”

“Why would that help?”

“IT SOUNDED LIKE AN OKAY IDEA AT 2:15 A.M. OKAY,” Momota yell-cries into the phone, pouting. Harukawa sighs again.

“You’re lovesick.”

“I told you, I’m not gay!”

“But you like him.”

“It’s just a phase!”

“Hopefully your hair is too, then.”

Momota groans and rolls over.

“What else have you done?”

Momota lifts his head up, wondering if he should bother to tell her. It might help out, but what if Saihara found out...? Well, word would get out sometime, he thinks, so he raises his voice up to just above a whisper.

“I... I kissed him.”

“You kissed him?”

“He asked me if I could!”

“And you just kissed him?”

“He told me something important, so I thought it was only fair!”

Harukawa lets out a long-winded groan and puts her head in her hands.

“You’re hopeless.”

“I am not!”

“I’m not talking to you anymore. I have a paper to write.”

“Harumaki, wait!”

The phone buzzes. She’s hung up.

Momota yells something unintelligible, the ceiling being his only audience. He then flips onto his stomach and stuffs his head in the pillow, praying for sleep to take him.

* * *

“I... I think I’m going to confess to him.”

It’s a week before exams and it’s evident by the looks of the school. Few are outside, namely Akamatsu, a girl Saihara doesn’t recognize beside her, Harukawa, and Saihara himself. Momota’s gone to the bathroom, and, knowing him, he’ll be a while.

“Oh, is this the pipsqueak you’ve been telling me about? Suckhara, right? Yo! My name’s Miu Iruma, the gorgeous girl genius who’s bound for fame and glory!”

“M-My name is Saihara...” Saihara murmurs, turning his head and pulling on his cap.

“She does that to everybody. I’m sorry about her, Saihara-kun.”

“You’re all over the purple goatee guy, right? Is he the one who’s keeping you up at night?”

“That’s...”

“Iruma-san! Come on, be nice to him!”

“ _Hii-Hiiiiiiii!_ ” Iruma squeaks, shrinking into a shy, more submissive version of herself.

“Well... She’s not wrong. I do like Momota-kun...” Saihara mutters, putting a finger to his chin.

“Hah! I was right! That’s what you get from the golden brain of Miu Iruma!”

“Iruma-san, that was a guess.”

“But it was a good one!”

“Um... Can we get back to talking about me now?” Saihara asks, voice low due to him not truly wanting to interrupt the conversation.

“So, you’re getting ready to pop your virgin cherry, aren’t ya? Well, here’s a tip from yours truly- make sure you bring lotsa lube! You think Moanmota is already stretched out? Kyahahaha!”

“Iruma-san, please, shut up.”

“I-I was just joking!”

Akamatsu and Saihara both sigh.

“I’m just... I’m just scared. I’m pretty sure Momota-kun is straight, but... I don’t wanna be pining without knowing. I’d rather just have him tell me he’s straight, and then sort things out after than.”

“You think Momoanta’s straight?”

Saihara wonders why the place of the “moan” changed.

“Nobody with a fashion sense as fucking stupid as his is straight! You’ve got this cat in the bag!”

“I mean... He could be bi, or maybe even gay. Not all hope is gone. Keep fighting, Shuichi!” Akamatsu encourages, making fists with her hands.

“What... What am I fighting, exactly?”

“You’re fightin’ for a sweet taste of prostate!”

Akamatsu gives Iruma a glare, which manages to shut her up.

“Just try your best for me, okay? You know what they say, ‘you don’t know until you try’ or whatever? Momota-kun might be falling to you too. You never know, right?”

“Right.”

“You might end up bein’ his closet key!” Iruma boasts proudly, hands to her hips.

Out of the corner of his eye, Saihara spots Momota returning from the bathroom. He brings Iruma and Akamatsu closer to him, lowering his voice to a whisper.

“I’m going to confess to him if I pass my exams. On the day after the last exam, I’ll go to his house, and tell him. And then I’ll see what happens.”

“You can do it!” Akamatsu whisper-yells back, giving a thumbs up.

“Ohh, hey, what’s going on here?” a familiar purple-goateed face asks, poking his way into the huddle.

“Ah, uh, nothing in particular! Just talking about exams!” Akamatsu bluffs, standing up straight.

“Ah, shit, I forgot about those,” Momota groans, scratching the back of his head. “I’m gonna have to really study if I wanna pass.”

“I mean, I don’t know you that well, but I think you’re smart, Momota-kun.”

“Aww, thanks, Akamatsu! You want a hug for that?”

“Uh, no thanks...” the girl in question responds, backing away.

“Y’know, you could study with those two choads from the year ahead of us.” Iruma scoffs, looking away.

“You mean Ishimaru-san and Oowada-san? That’s a great idea!” Akamatsu chirps.

“Wow, I didn’t think you had any good ideas in that head of yours!” Momota compliments, giving the taller of the girls a smile.

“Hey, I’m smarter than you, cuckold!” Iruma barks, pointing a finger up at herself.

The rest of the group goes into laughter, not noticing the figure approaching behind them.

“I finished my 100 pushups,” Harukawa says.

* * *

Three days later, and Momota’s made an “appointment” to study with Ishimaru.

He carries a few notebooks in his hand, as well as his school iPad, which all his textbooks are on. It’s rare to see him nervous, but he feels a drop of sweat drip down his forehead as he rings Ishimaru’s doorbell.

To his surprise, it opens near instantly. The red eyes he was promised show themselves, along with thick, bushy eyebrows. The door opens and the neutral expression turns to a smile and a boisterous laugh.

“Ah, you must be Momota-kun! Please, come in!”

Momota is rarely silent, but he can’t help it in the unfamiliar environment. The kitchen is small, but has a homey feel to it, and it’s clean. He can’t tell if he keeps it this clean, or if he cleaned it for the occasion, but it’s probably the former.

“You’ve got a nice place,” Momota compliments, trying to assert his presence.

“Thank you very much!” Ishimaru beams.

Momota awkwardly piles his stuff on the table, pulling out a chair. Ishimaru’s proud disposition isn’t bad, per se, but he can’t help but feel like an outsider.

From a room on the right emerges another, taller figure. His hair is styled in an obnoxiously long pompadour, with a darker mullet in the back. He wears a white tank top and baggy sweatpants, contrasting with the clean and pristine image of Ishimaru’s school uniform. Momota is between them, in terms of clothing, at least, with a hoodie, t-shirt, and jeans.

“Oh, Oowada-kun! Good afternoon!”

“Yeah... Afternoon... I overslept,” the biker grumbles, attempting to scratch his back. He lets out a loud yawn before making his way over to the counter.

“You want a sandwich, Aniki?”

“I asked you to refer to me as Ishimaru when there’s company over!” Ishimaru scolds, folding his hands on the table.

“Oh, there’s company? My bad, I shoulda put a shirt on,” Oowada says, turning around to eye Momota, who waves weakly in response. “Momota, right?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s me!” Momota answers, feeling happy to be recognized.

“You’re in the class below us, right? What’re ya doing here?”

“Studying for exams. A friend of mine recommended coming here.”

“Ah, yeah. Lotsa people from our class have been comin’ in an’ outta here... Didn’t really expect a first year, though,” Oowada comments, opening the fridge to get out some lunch meat.

“Well, you gotta be good at math if you wanna be an astronaut!”

“And if you wanna pass,” Oowada chimes in, carefully laying two slices of turkey on a piece of bread.

“So you want to be an astronaut? What a delightful profession, Momota-kun!”

“Hehe, thanks! Most people don’t appreciate my greatness as it stands.”

“My philosophy is that, with hard work, any goal can be accomplished! Keep pushing forward each and every day!”

“He says that kinda shit a lot,” Oowada mumbles, finishing a sandwich. He puts a few pickle slices on the side.

“Oowada-kun, we have company! Please keep your vocabulary at a dignified level!”

“Alright, alright. Hey, kid, you want a sandwich?”

“Don’t worry about me! A true astronaut only hungers for the universe!”

“It ain’t a big deal, relax.”

“You got ham?”

“Yeah. Gimmie a minute.”

The studying begins, and Momota finds himself scratching his head at the first few problems. Ishimaru is lengthy with his explanations, but the problems often take a few tries.

“Hey, kid, here’s your sandwich.”

“Ah, thanks,” Momota says, taking a large bite into it. “Isch good,” Momota mumbles with a mouth full of food.

“Momota-kun, do not speak with your mouth full, it is considered rude! Also, thank you very much, Oowada-kun!”

“Yeesh, I dunno why you bother with the formalities just ‘cause there’s company or whatever. I think the whole school knows.”

“Huh? Knows what?” Momota asks inquisitively, giving a glance to the other two.

“We’re datin’, kid.”

“D-Dating? Seriously?!” Momota all but yells, a hand to his face in a weak attempt to hide his now red complexion.

“Well, I suppose now the whole school knows,” Ishimaru adds.

Momota finds his leg beginning to twitch without him knowing.

“If you tell me you’re homophobic, I’ll kick your ass into next Thursday!”

“Oowada-kun!”

“I-I’m not, I’m not!” Momota pleads, backing away in the first bit of legitimate fear he’s felt in quite a while.

“Alright, my bad. Sorry for jumpin’ to conclusions.”

With no other words, Oowada leaves.

* * *

Several hours, sighs, and explanations later, and Momota finally feels he has a semblance of a grasp of the exam material. He then slumps against the desk, letting out a groan as he closes his eyes.

“Have I tired you out, Momota-kun?” Ishimaru asks, giving him a worried look.

“Yeah... But I think I’m startin’ to get it. I’ll study at home tomorrow.”

“That’s great!” Ishimaru beams, clasping his hands together. “A good night’s sleep will help you absorb the material!”

“Mhm,” Momota weakly agrees pressing his palms against the desk to force himself up. He lets out a yawn.

“How will you be getting home?”

“I’m just gonna walk. No biggie.”

“I can bring you home on my bike if ya want,” Oowada offers, “you look pretty worn out.”

“Nah, I’m good!” Momota responded, though the thumbs up he gave was rather weak.

“Come on, I’ll ride you home. Pick yourself up, my motorcycle’s in the garage,” Oowada says, ushering the other to follow him. In reply he only gets a groan, Momota getting up and stretching.

* * *

Two days after test day. Momota’s foot bounces fast, anticipation coursing through his veins.

“I’m sure you’re all very tired from exams,” their homeroom teacher announces, shuffling a stack of papers at his podium. He gets a low, muffled groan in response.

“By the way, at lunch, your exam ranks will be displayed in the hall. Come see me if you’d like your grade.”

With that, heads turn. A few students exchange glances.

And when lunch starts, Momota dashes out of the room.

Already, students are swarming around the bulletin, on the eager hunt for their positions. Momota eventually makes his way to the front of the pack, giving the board a quick scan.

“Twelfth! Alright!” he cheers, clenching a fist and jumping upwards in an expression of personal victory. Harukawa and Saihara soon join him on either side, searching for their own grades.

“Fourteenth,” Saihara says to himself, looking at those around him.

“Seventeenth,” Harukawa follows.

“Top twenty? I’m so proud of you guys!” Momota exclaims, bringing an arm around each of them. Harukawa dislikes the contact, attempting to squabble out of his iron grasp, while Saihara accepts it, giggling into the taller man’s shoulder.

“You did pretty well yourself,” Harukawa mentions after finally being freed from Momota’s hug. “I thought you’d be on the ‘Extra Lessons Needed’ list.”

“Well, now you can believe in me, ‘cause I’ve proved I’m not an idiot!” Momota bellows, giving the girl a grin.

“Whatever,” Harukawa responds, “I’m sure Ishimaru had something to do with it.”

“I really wish they’d give us our ranks privately...” Saihara muses, putting a finger to his chin. “I’d hate to be ridiculed because I did poorly.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to talk to Student Council about that one. I think they’re more concerned about the yakisoba thieves,” Momota comments.

“Why you would steal something like that is beyond me,” Harukawa mutters.

“Well, it ain’t our problem. You’re payin’ for your food, right, Harumaki?”

Harukawa lets out a sigh. “I guess telling you to stop calling me that is pointless. But I usually bring lunch from home.”

“Ah, um, Momota-kun... Would you mind if I come over to your house tomorrow? Maybe... Maybe I could sleep over?” Saihara asks shyly, fidgeting with his hands. Harukawa gives him a knowing look.

“Sure thing! Who’s to deny a request from his sidekick?” Momota answers.

Harukawa gives him a straight-faced wink, heading outside for training.

* * *

The following afternoon, Saihara rings Momota’s doorbell, carrying more than his hands can handle.

The door swings open a minute later, revealing the purple-haired man with a signature grin and open arms.

“Yo, Shuuichi! You need any help with that? Come on in!”

Saihara obliges, Momota taking the sleeping bag from him. Momota assures that he’s got a spare futon, but Saihara insists upon his sleeping bag, setting several bags down on the floor of the foyer.

“How’ve ya been?”

“Momota-kun, it’s been less than two days,” Saihara assures him, “and I’ve been fine.”

“Just what I wanna hear!” Momota replies, clapping him on the back, as per usual. “What’ve you been doing?”

“Oh, before I got here, I was watching a show on my laptop. Here, let me get it out.”

Saihara starts to take a laptop from his backpack, leaving Momota waiting. He retrieves it and makes his way to the couch, setting it on the coffee table in front of it.

“It’s called Buzzfeed Unsolved,” Saihara says, opening it up. “I was in the middle of one of the ‘Supernatural’ episodes.”

“S-Supernatural?” Momota stammers, bringing up his knees so he can hug them.

“It’s not scary, I promise. Look.”

Saihara plays the video, and the screen lights up green. The two hosts film the supposedly haunted location in a glow-in-the-dark hue, recording any strange sounds they encounter. Momota wearily watches through the slits between his fingers.

“Ryan kind of reminds me of you,” Saihara comments. This doesn’t seem to ease the other, who still shakes.

“H-Hey, I ain’t that much of a scaredy cat!” Momota retorts unconvincingly. “B-Besides, he’s got a right to be scared! W-What if he gets possessed by a ghost?”

“You told me ghosts don’t exist.”

“Y-Yeah! Ghosts don’t exist! I’m sure of it!”

Saihara doesn’t think he sounds very sure.

“How can this one guy be so calm?” Momota complains, watching the other host navigate calmly.

“ _Hey there, demons, it’s me, ya boy,_ ” Shane, the calmer of the hosts, says to the nothingness.

Momota promptly closes the laptop.

* * *

The two decide to play the original Mario Brothers, downloaded to Momota’s Wii through the Virtual Console. He hasn’t upgraded since then; his grandparents say he should devote his time to his studies as opposed to playing games.

The two establish a rule among themselves to avoid using any shortcuts. Saihara goes first, making it to the first level of the second world, and Momota dies at the third level.

“How in the hell do people beat this?” Momota yells at the television, angrily releasing the Wii remote into his lap.

“Maybe you should ask Nanami-san,” Saihara suggests. “She’s a third year, and I heard she’s really into games.”

The two play for another hour until Momota’s grandmother comes downstairs.

“I thought I heard some yelling from down here! Welcome to our house, Saihara-kun.”

“Ah, thank you,” Saihara replies, pausing the game so he can pause and bow.

“Oh, no need to do that, dear. Are you alright with having a steak dinner?”

“Hell yeah!” Momota exclaims, clenching his hands into fists. Saihara giggles and nods.

“That’s great. Dinner will be ready at 7:30, make sure you don’t miss it!”

The two spend the next hour alternating between games, typically ending in Momota’s frustration. Saihara is actually very good at Mario Kart Wii, to Momota’s surprise.

Small talk floats between Momota, his grandparents, and Saihara at the dinner table as they relay the events of the previous week’s exam.

“Twelfth? I’m so proud of you, Kaito,” Momota’s grandfather says.

“We will have to celebrate!” his grandmother proclaims.

“Let’s do that when Shuuichi isn’t here.”

“Ah, Saihara-kun, do you have a place to sleep? We have a spare futon we can lend you,” Momota’s grandmother offers.

“Thank you, but I’ll be fine. I brought a sleeping bag.”

“Is that so? Well, I hope it works out for you, dear.”

“Thank you.”

Momota gets up and burps, embarrassing everyone else. His grandfather chides him, reminding him to cover his mouth.

“Shuuichi, you wanna go up to my room?”

“Shouldn’t we clean up our dishes?” Saihara asks curiously.

“Oh, we’ll clean them up, it’s no problem,” Momota’s grandfather replies.

“Alright...” Saihara says, still feeling bad about his neglect. Momota climbs up the stairs ahead of him.

* * *

Saihara checks his social media and Momota scrolls through Youtube, sharing in the silence and peace that can only exist in friendship. On occasion, the two interrupt each other to share posts that are particularly funny, or to show the other the rare unseen vine.

“Have you seen the new John Mulaney show on Netflix?” Saihara asks, spur of the moment, at 10:17.

“Oh, they put up a new one?” Momota inquires, intrigued.

“Yeah, it’s really funny. Let me pull it up.”

The two spend the next hour and a half laughing their asses off at captchas, a horse in a hospital, and the Catholic church. The night continues on as the room darkens, the outside black and clear. Momota opens the window to look at the stars.

“Do you uh... You wanna talk, Shuuichi?”

“Huh?” Saihara asks, turning his head to look at the other. “Is... Is something wrong, Momota-kun?”

“I wish you didn’t think something’s wrong when people ask something of ya.”

“Sorry... It’s a nervous habit of mine,” Saihara answers, scratching at his head.

Momota jumps on his bed, putting his hands behind his bed, flopping against his pillow.

“Speaking of talking, um...” Saihara starts, eyes darting to a random corner of the room, “I have something I’d like to tell you, Momota-kun.”

“Mm,” Momota mumbles, acknowledging the other’s statement. “How ‘bout... I tell you what I’m thinkin’, and when the clock hits twelve, you say what it is you’re thinking about. That work?”

It’s 11:44. Saihara nods.

“What I wanted to say to ya was...I just... I wanna apologize to you, Shuuichi.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Saihara asks, and for once, it’s Momota who can’t bare to look him in the eyes.

“It’s... I just feel like I’ve been pushin’ you around, you know? You and Harumaki. S’like... I’m relying on you guys to get myself outside and train every day. And sometimes, I feel like the two of you are stronger than me. Like, you know how I got spooked out by the Haunted House back at the school festival? And how I made you help me buy a gift for my grandma? Or how I always pick you for class projects? I’m supposed to be the hero, y’know? You guys are supposed to rely on me. I can’t show you my weaknesses.”

“Momota-kun...” Saihara says softly, still not looking at him. “It’s... It’s okay if you’re not the hero all the time.” As he finishes his sentence, he turns around. Momota gives him a look out of curiosity.

“We’re friends. And you and Harukawa-san are the first friends I’ve made since I got to this school. I’m... I’m grateful to you. That you noticed me, and that you decided to help me get stronger. It may seem hard to convince yourself of this, but... Friends rely on others. I rely on you, and so does Harukawa-san. When you don’t think you’re strong enough on your own, we’ll be here to help.”

Momota says nothing.

“Sometimes... Sometimes it feels like I’m being dragged around by you and your antics. But I’m okay with that. Wherever you go... I’ll do my very best to be by your side. So don’t be afraid to ask for my help, okay?”

He turns to the clock. It’s 12:01.

“I guess I’m late... My apologies,” Saihara mutters. Typically, he only takes the hat off to sleep around Momota, but he takes it off now. He has to look at Momota. He can’t hide anymore. He’s promised himself.

“You’ve... You’ve probably known this for a while. I don’t think it takes a detective to figure it out. But I...” Saihara stops, taking in a breath.

“I love you, Momota-kun.”

Momota’s eyes widen, clearly taken aback by the statement. “You... You do?”

“Yeah... I’m sorry. I won’t mention it again. I know you’re probably straight, I just wanted to tell you...” Saihara says, lowering his head in defeat.

“No, no, it’s okay. I...” Momota stammers, his heart pounding. “I need to go get something.”

Saihara looks at him, rather confused. Momota frantically rummages through his drawers, pulling out a t-shirt.

“Is that my shirt? I thought I lost that,” Saihara says, taking it back in his hands.

“Okay, so, don’t kill me here but... I may or may not have been using that as a pillow case a few days ago?”

“You what?!” Saihara exclaims, blinking. “You’ve been sleeping... on my shirt?”

“I knew I shouldn’t have said anything!” Momota yells back, face flushing as he cups his head in his hands.

Saihara mirrors Momota’s complexion, beginning to giggle. “It’s like... It’s like you’ve slept with me.”

“Don’t make this weird, fucker!” Momota pleads, causing Saihara to only laugh harder. Momota soon joins him until he tires himself out, falling back on his bed.

“Truth is... I think I may be falling for you,” Momota confesses, scratching his cheek.

“R-Really?” Saihara asks incredulously.

“I called up Harumaki and told her everything... An’ she says I’m lovesick. And in all honesty... I’m starting to believe her.”

“You told her we kissed?!”

“Oops?” Momota says, but it comes out as a question. Saihara lets out an audible sigh.

“So... I ain’t really sure about the whole sexuality thing but... You’re my best friend, Shuuichi. And if you wanna try being more than that...”

“I’d love to,” Saihara replies, smiling. Momota smiles back.

* * *

It’s 9:00 the next morning when Saihara finally feels himself waking up. He rubs his eyes, and looks to the clock, then looks to Momota, who’s still snoring.

Last night really happened. It wasn’t a dream.

A few minutes later and the doorbell rings. The sound wakes Momota up, and he groans.

From downstairs, the two can hear Momota’s grandfather answer the door. The guest introduces herself as Harukawa, and says she’s here to return an umbrella that Momota left at school.

“Shit, Shuuichi, hide,” Momota curses. He pretends to fall asleep while Saihara crawls inside his sleeping bag. Harukawa knocks on the door.

After hearing no response, she lets herself in, giving the room a look. “It’s messy in here...” she complains, stepping over junk.

Her foot hits something on the floor. The “something” begins to giggle, only causing her to further prod it with her foot.

“...Saihara?”

“Yeah,” he admits, accepting defeat.

“Can you breath in there?”

“Not really.”

“Get out.”

Doing as told, Saihara shimmies his way out of his sleeping bag. Momota opens an eye to look at the scene, and Harukawa catches him.

“You left your umbrella at school, so here it is,” Harukawa says, showing him the umbrella.

“Cool,” Momota replies, rubbing his eyes. “Just lean it against the closet.”

She does so, making sure she’s careful as she steps over Saihara. “What’s he doing here?”

“We’re having a sleepover,” Momota answers.

“Gross,” the girl comments in disgust. She walks toward the door.

“Have fun finishing your making out session without me,” Harukawa jokes, reaching for the doorknob.

“We will!” Momota proudly yells back.

Harukawa slams the door.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it, thanks a billion! I’ve been working on this all year, and it’s finally come together.
> 
> Originally, there was a scene where Momota and Oowada talked about relying on others, but I deleted it because I couldn’t get it to come out right.
> 
> By the way, the title means “The Moon, the Earth, and a bit of the Sun.”


End file.
